


Of Homes Old and New

by mantisbelle



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anniversary, Corvo Bianco (The Witcher), Domestic Fluff, F/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29359305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/pseuds/mantisbelle
Summary: Geralt came to her one day carrying a bottle of Sangreal with him and told Yennefer that they were celebrating an anniversary.Yennefer wasn't aware that they had an anniversary at all. She needed more information before she was going to go toasting anything.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35
Collections: A Very Yenralt Valentine





	Of Homes Old and New

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the[A Very Yenralt Valentine's](https://stuffedunicorns.tumblr.com/post/639516682316103680/we-can-hold-hands-and-stare-at-the-sky-like-in) Event using the prompt "anniversary." 
> 
> Enjoy.

“Do I dare ask what the purpose of  _ that _ is?” Yennefer asked Geralt almost immediately once she realized that he was carrying a bottle of wine with him. She was stretched out on the daybed in the sun, spread out with a book that she’d bought in Beauclair but hadn’t gotten a chance to read just yet. She’d been getting to a good part, but it would have to wait since Geralt apparently had plans for them. 

Geralt dropped down into the grass beside her and stretched his legs out in front of him while he rifled through his pocket in search of something. If Yennefer wanted to, she could have reached out and ran her fingers through Geralt’s hair. 

He found whatever he’d had in his pocket and revealed it to be a corkscrew. Geralt paid her no mind as he opened the bottle. The cork came out with a  _ pop _ and Geralt wordlessly offered the bottle to Yennefer. She recognized the label as being the Sangreal that Geralt tended to keep tucked away for a special occasion.

He’d gotten out the best wine that they had available to them, and for what reason? Yennefer could hardly think of one. 

“You haven’t answered my question, Geralt,” Yennefer prodded gently in the same breath that she slipped a length of ribbon between the pages of her book and closed it, setting it down at her side. She’d continue her reading later on, likely with some wine in her. “I’m  _ very  _ curious as to why you’ve brought me the good wine.” 

And for a moment, Yennefer couldn’t help but think that he looked sheepish, unsure of himself. He looked down at the bottle and set it down at his side, not sure what to say. 

“Geralt?”

“It’s… probably ridiculous,” Geralt admitted, shrugging in a way that did nothing but betray his discomfort. “Seemed like a good day for you and I to enjoy some wine, though. With you, at least.” 

Yennefer watched him, unsure. “And what would you say the occasion is, because at the moment you have me second guessing myself,” She quieted and felt a momentary spike of nervousness rush through her. “Have I forgotten something?”

“Nothing I’d expect you to remember, I guess,” Geralt’s brow furrowed and he began to fidget with the corkscrew that he’d brought out with him. The bottle sat, momentarily abandoned. “But a few decades ago—” Geralt closed his hand around the corkscrew and turned the metal implement against his palm. It wouldn’t hurt him, but it would give him something to help dispel his nerves. In other times and other places, Geralt would have sharpened his swords or cleaned his armor instead. “You invited me to live with you, in Vengerberg.” 

If Yennefer was honest with herself, had things in Vengerberg gone even the smallest modicum better she would have been more likely to remember the date and consider its anniversaries. But things had gone poorly and like many terrible things, Yennefer had considered it best forgotten. 

But she and Geralt weren’t the same as they had been back then, in so many ways. He was the man that was able to name the number of days that it had been since they’d last seen each other, even when the number stretched over  _ years  _ of separation. He spent years on the Path with nothing to occupy himself but his work and his thoughts, occasional travel companions and searches for Ciri notwithstanding. 

Of course he would remember something like a move-in date.

Yennefer glanced back at her book. “I’d say that is hardly a happy occasion to want to celebrate, Geralt. I shouldn’t have to remind you how terrible—” 

“I want to celebrate it,” Geralt cut her off, all but shoving the bottle of wine into her hand, “because of how far we’ve come since then.” 

That was all that it took to convince Yennefer. She took the first swig of sweet red wine then handed the bottle right back to Geralt. “In that we’re living together again?"

“Living together,” Geralt said, almost wistful. “Not the house that I built with my own hands like I used to hope but…” His voice trailed off for a moment, “we’re at peace here, mostly. Aside from the stray archespore getting into the fields,” Geralt drank, and Yennefer felt a spike of annoyance when she realized that he was likely to drain most of the bottle before she even felt so much as a buzz. One of the many problems with witchers, but hardly one that she could hold against Geralt. In Yennefer’s experience the hard drinking was a universal trait among witchers. “Figured we could celebrate how far we’ve come, at least.” 

Yennefer reached down and stroked the tips of her fingers through Geralt’s snowy white hair. It had softened so much since he no longer needed to bathe himself in rivers regularly. All of Geralt was much better cared for compared to before, now that he had the means to do so. “It’s because we aren’t trying to live out a silly fantasy anymore,” Yennefer remarked quietly, “we aren’t struggling for coin or trying to live out some life both of us had only ever seen in—” she glanced back over at the volume set at her side. “Well, stories.” 

“Could be better,” Geralt remarked. 

“Could always be better,” Yennefer smiled softly and reached for the bottle again. Geralt passed it back to her with no argument. “But the things I’d most like to improve are ones which are not under either of our control.” 

Geralt grunted. “Tax season’s coming up,” he grumbled, “I don’t want to know how bad the back taxes on this place are.”

Yennefer sighed, “That was in absolutely no way what I meant, but I do agree to the sentiment.” She sipped the wine, wishing for a glass but hardly finding the energy to go ahead and try to conjure something. The bottle could do the job just as well. “I was more thinking of how Ciri is always away and how nice it would have been to have her here with us more.” 

“She comes by when she can,” Geralt shrugged, looking back at Yennefer over his shoulder. “She’s on the Path. You know how it goes.”

“I know how it works far better than I would have liked,” Yennefer passed the bottle back down to him. “You can hardly blame me for worrying about it.” 

“She’s our daughter,” Geralt sipped from the bottle. “I worry about her too. I know the Path better than anyone, but at least she has a way to get out of anything if she decides she wants to.” 

“Convenient, that,” Yennefer scraped her nails along Geralt’s scalp. His eyes flickered closed in pleasure, so Yennefer repeated the motion. “If I’d traveled with you, you could have had something similar. Although I’m certain you would have complained every time I even suggested you using it.” 

Geralt let out a quiet snort of amusement. “Can’t imagine you on the path.” 

“Can't imagine you in a court,’ Yennefer teased, ”you’d never get anywhere in politics because you’d be too interested in complaining over your doublets.“ 

“And you’d complain about the limited wardrobe, the dirt, and the bugs on the Path,” Geralt prodded back with about as much heat. “Bathing in rivers and stinking of monster guts, horse, and onions. I don’t think you’d ever survive it.” 

Yennefer laughed into the bottle as she was about to take her next sip of wine. “ You’re better describing Keira Metz than you are me, Geralt. Limited wardrobe aside, at least I wouldn’t be beheaded for being an annoyance to a king,” Yennefer poked. “I’d merely be eaten by something.”

Geralt took the bottle back. “Eaten, or left to bleed out in the mud, poisoned, could even just freeze to death.” 

Yennefer gently prodded Geralt’s shoulder. “Sit with me.”

“I am,” he gave her a somewhat confused look. Yennefer rolled her eyes, drew her legs in and sat up properly before she pat the space at her side to tell Geralt what she  _ really _ meant. Geralt stood up, brushed himself off to ensure that he wasn’t taking any grass, dirt, or bugs with him, and then seated himself beside Yennefer. “Better?” 

“Much,” Yennefer smiled at him. “You’re right, there is cause to celebrate.”

“Vengerberg?” Geralt asked. 

“No,” Yennefer met his eyes. “Our mutual survival.” 

Geralt gave her a questioning look. “That all we’re toasting?”

“Did you have something that you wanted to add?” Yennefer leaned back in her space, draping an arm over the back of the daybed. “Because I may be open to more.” 

Geralt hummed quietly, considering the suggestion. “To finally having a home together,” Geralt murmured, “settling.”

“Retirement?” 

“ _ Retirement _ ,” Geralt replied. “Makes us sound so old.” 

Yennefer smirked, “What’s a century or two between friends, Geralt? What’s a lifetime of nonsense if you’re not going to be able to eventually rid yourself of it?” 

“I was under the impression that you just liked the wine and the sunshine,” Geralt nudged her with his elbow. “The food.” 

“The sunshine does horrors on my complexion,” Yennefer sipped from the bottle of wine and passed it back to Geralt. “But if those are the things that you wish to toast to, I’m hardly opposed to it.” 

Geralt took the bottle from her and shook it, listening to the remaining wine inside slosh about. He shot her a slightly annoyed look. “Be better if we had glasses.”

“And I’m hardly complaining about it,” Yennefer pointed out. “To our shared retirement and finally doing better than Vengerberg, Geralt.”

Geralt drained the rest of the bottle and raised it towards Yennefer before he simply dropped it onto the ground beside him. “Happy Anniversary, Yen.”

“We should think of a better anniversary to celebrate,” Yennefer only half joked, picking her legs up and draping them across Geralt’s lap. When her slippers fell off of her feet, Yennefer merely ignored them. Geralt made no complaints, merely set his hand upon her leg and squeezed Yennefer’s calf with a gentle grip. “Perhaps…”

“Beltane?”

“I’m not celebrating an anniversary on what is both mine and Ciri’s birthday.” 

“Ah, you’re right, dammit,” Geralt’s brow screwed up. “We’ll figure something out.” 

“Of course,” Yennefer smiled, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the sunlight and the steady buzz that the wine brought with it. “Should we retire inside?” Yennefer asked Geralt, enjoying the way that he kneaded at her muscles. “Celebrate further?” 

He groaned. “Kind of like the sun,” Geralt replied. “What’s inside that’s so nice?” 

Yennefer picked her head up and looked back at Geralt, keeping her gaze as intense as she could. She reached out and stroked her fingers over his bare forearm. “I’m sure that you’d be able to find something entertaining,” she teased him gently. “Gifts that can be  _ unwrapped _ .” 

“Didn’t know there was a gift for me,” Geralt released her calf and leaned in, nearly draping himself over top of Yennefer. “Seeing as you didn’t know we were celebrating anything.”

“I came up with one just now,” Yennefer reclined further, letting Geralt lay over him. “And if there weren’t any workers about, you’d be able to see it now. I’d rather spare them the sight of the sunlight on your untanned arse, however. I’m afraid you’d blind half of Toussaint with one cheek alone.” 

“Yen—”

“If you continue to play around, I may be tempted to push you through a portal to the bedroom,” Yennefer teased Geralt as he worked an arm under her knees. While he arranged her so that he could lift her, Yennefer continued on. “I wonder whether you’d complain more about the portal or the unicorn.” 

Geralt hauled her up as he stood. “I’d rather not have to find out,” Geralt grumbled while Yennefer draped her arms around his neck. “To the house, it is.” 

“Mm,” Yennefer rested her head against Geralt’s chest. “I’m sure you’ll appreciate the gift, Geralt. But you have to get me to the house first.”

He snorted, “don’t make me start running.” 

“Would you prefer a portal?”

“Point taken,” Geralt said as he continued to carry Yennefer on towards the threshold of their home to enjoy the gift that Yennefer had promised. 

As for Yennefer, she could hardly complain about lovemaking at midday over an anniversary that she hadn’t known that she’d be celebrating. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr](https://arynasea.tumblr.com)   
>  [Find me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/hymen_opus)   
> 


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